


Bound White

by dedougal



Series: Corset Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-01
Updated: 2011-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-17 15:18:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/178219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared lets Misha do what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bound White

Jared didn’t know how things had gotten this… out of control was the wrong expression. This thing that Misha and he had stumbled into, dared and drank themselves into? All he had to do was say stop and they would. One word and it would all end. Jared knew he was lying to himself if he tried to say he didn’t want this.

The binding was white this time. Tape that Misha had produced from the recesses of a drawer. He hadn’t spoken once after ordering Jared to kneel in front of the mirror and put his hands behind his back. He’d pushed at limbs and positioned Jared exactly the way he wanted: knees spread wide, calves fixed to thighs, arms bound tight, hands on elbows. There was a piece of tape holding his mouth shut and a piece of tape wound tight around his balls, lifting them, holding them too tight, on the edge of something beyond pain. Another tight band of tape at the base of his cock, which didn’t seem to get the message it wasn’t going to be allowed to come anytime soon, pulsing red and angry against the binding. Jared had a moment where he was glad he had taken to shaving everywhere because the tape would hurt like hell coming off as it was. But thoughts as prosaic as that didn’t fit here and now.

Jared watched in the mirror as Misha turned him into something other than himself. He seemed to find himself slipping further and further away every time Misha dangled that string of pearls over one long, slender, clever finger and Jared lowered his head to let him put it on. Misha was over by the bed again and Jared knew he could turn his head to look but the rules they hadn’t discussed meant he only watched the mirror, watched himself. Misha knelt behind him, hiding the objects he was carrying. His hand caressed Jared’s back, tracing his spine from the base of his neck, skipping his bound hands and stopping at the crease of his ass.

“There are two more things I want to dress you in. Will you let me?” Misha didn’t normally ask. He normally offered, sometimes waited until Jared begged. But this was asking for trust. Jared shivered. There was fear there, sure enough, but anticipation was the stronger, driving emotion he felt. He caught Misha’s eye in the mirror and nodded. Misha’s fingertips traced down, suddenly wet and insistent at Jared’s hole, slipping and sliding and prodding and Jared expected it to be the least sexy thing he could imagine. Instead he found himself trying to widen his legs, lift up, let Misha in. He was glad of the tape preventing him let spill pleading and moaning and begging. He had no power here, no way to affect the outcome.

Misha’s fingers worked their way in, one then two, making space, teasing the muscle open until Jared felt empty when Misha moved away. He was sweating now, like he always did, embarrassingly. He could feel the sweat making the tape slippery and see it gleaming in the soft light. His body was starting to gleam too, the artificial tan he maintained for the show glistening, glowing. Then Jared was trying to rise up, escape the press of something harder and much, much colder than Misha’s fingers.

“I kept it in the fridge for you, since you get so very hot.” Misha’s tone had deepened to beyond Castiel levels, something rough and harsh and bleak. Jared became glad of the tape again since he knew that he’d be screaming and begging for Misha to stop working the hard cold unforgiving plastic into his most tender places. “But I know you’ll take it for me.”

Jared knew Misha was right. All he had to do was shake his head, to say no, to drop the white handkerchief that Misha had tucked into his immobilised hand. But Jared wasn’t ready to do that. Two things, Misha had said. Jared would take them all.

Misha rolled back up to his feet, standing back. His face was impassive and Jared couldn’t work out if he was unhappy with his handiwork or waiting for something else, for Jared to do something. Jared looked at him, suddenly worried. Misha finally turned away and Jared couldn’t help a garbled voiceless plea.

“I’m not angry. You just need something more.” Misha came back, placing a hand on Jared’s shoulder and Jared felt himself relax. “This.”

Misha dropped to his knees in front of Jared, blocking his view of the mirror and tenderly swept the hair back from where it had dropped into Jared’s eyes, from where it had tangled with sweat at his temples. Jared felt- He didn’t know how what to call it again. Cared for? That was too simplistic. Loved? That was something he wasn’t ready to address yet either. Misha didn’t drop a kiss to his forehead like he’d expected. Instead Misha slide something onto his head, smiling crookedly. “Suits you.”

Then he leaned forward, placed a firm kiss on the white tape covering Jared’s lips and rolled back up to standing. Misha smiled down at Jared, happier now, before walking towards the door. Jared was tempted to watch him go but obeyed the rules and watched himself in the tiara. A silver tiara, decorating with pearls to match the necklace – his necklace – nestled in the hair on his head. And there was a bright red imprint of lips over his mouth. His brain stuttered over that. Misha had been wearing lipstick. Jared felt impatient to kiss it off him, to wear it all himself and finally found himself wanting to fight his bonds, to demand everything from his… What? His lover?

Misha stood in the doorway, watching him. There was a soft click and Jared felt a low vibration roll out from the plastic he’d almost forgotten was buried inside of him. Misha seemed determined to drive him beyond limits he even knew were there. The vibrations increased, harder now, sending waves of pain/pleasure up his spine and all Jared really heard was the door closing softly and Misha’s footsteps receding down the hallway. He looked at the kiss, at the tiara.

No matter how tied up, no matter how much Misha tried to humiliate him, Jared would take and Jared would like it. Because if it made Misha happy, it was very much starting to make him happy too.


End file.
